


born to break the doors down

by voodoochild



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Armor Kink, F/F, Introspection, Post-Episode: s01e15 Yes Men, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda, Sif, and the forms armor can take. [Takes place at the end of "Yes Men", spoilers for up until that episode.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	born to break the doors down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **effingmurrays** , for the prompt "Melinda May and/or Lady Sif, armor". Title from Ke$ha's "Warrior".

Every SHIELD agent learns to, if not love, then *tolerate* their Kevlar, and Melinda May is no different.

She strapped it on before charging into a warehouse in Bahrain, and it’s the only thing that saved her life. It hugged her center of mass on every mission - in an Ecuadorian jungle and the beachside huts of Singapore and a desert in Algeria, along with the far more familiar climes of New York, London, Los Angeles - and she never once took it for granted.

She isn’t the only agent to have their own customized vest, but she’s the only one on board the Bus. Ward thinks all Kevlar is interchangeable, Fitz and Simmons and Skye have never worn it and *won’t*, if she has her say, and Phil …

(There’s an immaculate vest in the back of his closet, one that has custom lining and a garrote stitched into the collar, and which he hasn’t touched since “Tahiti”. Kevlar hadn’t protected him from alien sceptres and magic and betrayal.)

Lady Sif finds her at 0830, just before they’re about to set out for Lorelai’s last known location. She’s every inch the goddess in her burnished silver armor, her sword at her side, and Melinda is momentarily too focused on double-checking the straps to her vest to notice Sif’s slight curiosity.

"A warrior should have more fitting armor, Lady Melinda."

Asgardians fascinate her, with their seemingly medieval society and their generally-straightforward natures. Well, most of them, and the ones that Melinda’s met, anyway. Thor had spent the entirety of their first brief meeting enthusing over her skill at piloting and requesting to hear stories of some of her brave deeds, and the second outdrinking everyone at HQ after Coulson’s “death”.

She secures the bottom strap again, tests its firmness. “Plate metal would slow me down.”

"You could adapt," Sif suggests. "You do not seem as if learning a new fighting style would trouble you."

Briefly, she entertains the thought of trying on Asgardian armor; the chainmail undershirt, the heavy epaulets protecting the shoulders, the hammered steel of the breastplate, the arm gauntlets to support her wrists. Looking every inch the warrior, able to withstand many more direct attacks without resorting to her speed and stealth.

"And how long have you trained, Lady Sif?"

A soft smile, lurking around the corners of her mouth, and Melinda wishes the woman would smile more often. It’s lovely.

"Far longer than you could hope to survive. I see your point."

She’s about to leave, and something in Melinda makes her speak up again. “Wouldn’t rule out trying. Will you have some time to spar before you return to Asgard?”

Six hours, four time zones, and one brainwashed team member later, Sif takes her up on her offer. Tripping over her own feet and clunking about awkwardly is worth it for the stupefied looks on her team’s faces and the warmth of Sif’s fingers guiding her into proper forms.


End file.
